“Porca puttana.” I leaned forward to brace my elbows on my desk and dropped my head into my hands, fighting back the sickness rising in my chest.
I was fucked. We were fucked. And I had no one to blame but myself, because everything I’d done since the moment I’d met Natalie James had been wrong.
The open laptop on the desk dinged, distracting me from the storm building inside me. Without lifting my head, I glanced up. And a new chill swept over me when I saw the notice of a private message coming through on an onion network that rerouted messages and ISP addresses so they couldn’t be tracked.
I immediately opened the browser I used to access the Darknet. The private message was from Marco Romano, one of the only people who knew how to contact me. Marco rarely reached out to me—and then only when something was dire and only using the Darknet so no one could trace our correspondence. He hadn’t attended that party my mother had thrown when Natalie and I had been in Tuscany, and I’d been both relieved and nervous by that fact. So getting a message from him now sent the hair on my nape to attention and a sinking feeling straight into my gut.
I opened the message, read the few lines, and muttered, “Merda,” because my day was going from fucked to seriously fucked in a matter of seconds.
L—
Dante’s in trouble. Maricella’s missing and he’s convinced your father’s behind her disappearance. He went after your father last night at the villa. Your father’s all right, but the Knights are holding Dante in the Tomb. They’re going to vote on what to do with him on Saturday.
—M
My adrenaline surged as I read the message twice more, and a bitter rage gathered inside me, heating my blood to boiling. Dante was just a kid—twenty-four years old. He’d always been awed by my father, had been raised to believe nothing our House or my father did was wrong. So the fact he’d snapped told me things weren’t just bad, they were explosive.
I knew Dante had some deviant tendencies thanks to the depraved men in my House—I’d walked in on him thrashing Maricella with a cane on my recent trip home—but I also knew how he felt about the girl. He might hide his true feelings from my father, from the Knights in our House, and from our family, but he was crazy about the girl. When I’d ripped that cane from his hand and made him see that Maricella wasn’t enjoying what he was doing to her, his entire world had shifted. The way he’d cradled her close and whispered sweet words in her ear told me she was more to him than a kitten. She was his everything.
I typed a quick reply to Marco and hit Send, then I deleted the messages so there was no record of our contact. After unlocking the right desk drawer, I grabbed two secure cell phones and the one my parents could contact me on when I was away from this island, then swiveled to the cabinet and opened my safe. I pulled out money and my passport, locked everything back up tight, then hustled out to the kitchen where I could hear Sela getting started on breakfast.
I hit Send on a text to Manaia, the marine captain who lived on a nearby island and ferried me back and forth to Tahiti when needed, as I entered the room. Sela glanced over her shoulder as she pulled eggs from the refrigerator. “You’re up early. And you forgot your shirt.”
I grabbed the fridge door before she could close it all the way. “I’m not eating this morning. I have to leave.”
Her brow wrinkled. “You didn’t have plans to go to the warehouse today. Is everything okay?”
I hadn’t been to the warehouse in Tahiti since being home. My company pretty much ran itself now—under a hidden name, of course—and I knew it would continue to do fine without me.
“Everything’s fine.” I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and turned back for the hall, knowing I had only forty-five minutes max to get showered and changed before the boat arrived. “I need to make some calls, and I don’t want to do it anywhere close to the island. I may need to head to Sydney. Which means I won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.”
“Does Natalie know you’re leaving?”
My steps faltered, a reaction I knew was rooted in this never-ending yearning I had for Natalie. When she discovered I’d left, I was sure any similar reaction from her would be cemented in disgust.
“No.” I glanced back at Sela. “And don’t tell her where I’m going. I don’t want her freaking out. Just tell her I had something to take care of and that I’ll be back as soon as I can. Then keep an eye on her so she doesn’t get into any trouble.”
Sela rolled her eyes and turned toward the bowl on the counter and whatever she was planning to make for Natalie’s breakfast. “Something tells me she’s not the troublemaker. You are.”
I frowned as I headed for my room. Sela didn’t know the half of it. Only I wasn’t just a troublemaker. I was a demon who’d fucked Natalie’s life up good.
Pushing my bedroom door open, I ignored the rumpled bed where I’d spent probably my last night with Natalie, and moved into my closet. I didn’t have a clue if I could do anything to help Dante or Maricella, but I had to know how bad things really were. And then I needed to know if what was happening to them had anything at all to do with Natalie’s safety.
Because something in my gut screamed, one way or another, it was all connected.
Things were worse than I feared.
I waited until I’d reached Sydney before making any calls. After checking myself into a dive hotel on the outskirts of the city, I used my cell and called my sister Ariana. I figured she, if anyone, would give me an honest take on just how bad things really were. The whole flight to Australia, I’d been hoping—praying—that Marco’s short message had been sent in a moment of panic. That things weren’t nearly as dire as he’d made them sound. I’d been wrong.
Way wrong.
“Slow down, Ariana. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
My little sister drew a deep breath, and as I sat on the uncomfortable bed with the phone pressed to my ear, I could easily picture her pacing her wide bedroom at our parents’ villa in Tuscany. She was twenty-two years old, sweet and kind, and the only truly good thing my parents could be credited for.
“Oh, Luc, it was awful. Dante was crazed. I’ve never seen him like that. He stormed into the villa while me and Mamma and Papá were having dinner, jerked Papá out of his seat, and threw him to the ground. He looked possessed. Like he was out for blood. And he was screaming about ‘her.’ Wanting to know where she was and what Papá had done with her.”
Our father was a big man. He outweighed Dante by at least fifty pounds. But Dante was leaner and younger and way faster, and the fear I heard in Ariana’s voice told me just how violent he’d been. “Her who?” I asked calmly.
“I don’t know for sure. I couldn’t tell. But he had to have been talking about Maricella.”
“Have Dante and Maricella been staying at the villa?”
“They were, until about a week ago. Then they left together. Papá wasn’t happy about that. He was ranting about Dante one night after dinner a few days ago, and when I asked Mamma why he was so upset, all she would tell me was that Dante had moved into a place in Rome with Maricella without permission.”
That news unsettled me. Keeping a kitten around was one thing. Moving in with her meant something completely different. “What happened then?”
“Mamma tried to herd me out of the dining room, but I struggled against her so I could find out what was going on. Dante and Papá started fighting. They rolled across the floor, broke two chairs and several dishes. The whole time Dante was screaming at him, Papá didn’t even say a word. He just thrashed around and tried to fight Dante off. And then”—she sucked in a shaky breath—“then two of Papá’s men came running in and grabbed hold of Dante, pulling him off Papá. I thought it was over then, but it wasn’t. Mamma pushed me harder out of the room, but before she shoved me around the corner I saw Papá stand up. I heard him tell his two men to hold Dante still. And then…” A sob strangled her voice. “Then Papá punched Dante in the stomach, in the jaw, again
and again until Dante was bloodied and bruised and his legs buckled.”
A vile rage brewed deep in my gut as I listened to my sister’s horrifying story. My father had beaten his own son—his own flesh and blood. Beaten him like a dog right in front of the entire household. In front of Ariana, the one person in our family who was innocent and pure and honest.
I swallowed hard to keep the rage from my voice so I wouldn’t scare Ariana any more than she’d already been scared. “And then what happened?”
She sniffled. “I don’t know. Mamma banished me upstairs after that. I don’t know where Papá took Dante. No one would answer my questions when I asked. Mamma said what had happened was none of my business and that I was to stop asking about it. And Papá… When I finally saw him the next morning, he refused to look at me. The only thing he would say was that Dante was being punished. Luc, I’m scared. I’ve never seen Dante like that. I’ve never seen Papá like that either. He was like…like a different man. One I didn’t even know.”
My pulse beat hard and fast. Ariana wasn’t aware of the evil things our House was involved in. She didn’t know the degenerate acts the men in our family participated in or have a clue what our father was capable of. And I wanted her to stay as naïve and pure and innocent as long as possible so she didn’t do anything to draw attention her way.
As a female Salvatici, she was protected, but only so long as she toed the family line. With any luck, our father would broker a marriage between her and the son of another House sometime soon. In my gut, I knew that wasn’t fair to her. I knew she’d balk at an arranged marriage, just as I had. And I knew it was a gamble because immoral men existed in all five Entente Houses. But I also knew our House was the worst, and that other Houses—like House Merrick in the UK—were actively making changes for the better, reforming their ways and trying to abolish the ancient rituals.
Until that could happen, I needed her to stay calm and not make waves. And I needed her safe.
“Listen to me, Ariana. Don’t get involved in this.”
“But—”
“No buts. I don’t know what’s happening but I’ll get to the bottom of it. I want you to focus on school and your friends and stay out of it.”
“But Dante—”
“I’ll find him.” The bitter fear in her voice caused me to gentle my tone. “I’ll figure out what’s going on and make sure nothing happens to him. I promise. Just don’t anger Papá more by asking questions. You’ll only make things worse for Dante. And for you.”
She sniffled, and halfway around the world I ached to comfort her. All I could do was hope and pray she heeded my warning.
“I hate our family,” she whispered.
I hated them too, but for reasons I would never share with her.
I changed the topic, asking her about school and her studies, trying to find a way to end our call on a good note. Ariana perked up a little, but by the time we said goodbye, I was still worried about her. And even more concerned with what was happening in Italy and how it might all blow back on her.
A quick call to Marco hadn’t done a thing to ease my worry. I learned Dante was still being held in the Tomb, but now no one was allowed to see him, not even Marco. As much as I wanted to ignore what was happening back in Italy, I couldn’t. And that meant my world was about to change again, and not in any way I wanted.
I spent two days in Sydney, making plans. Just the thought of returning to Italy turned my stomach, but I didn’t have a choice. Dante was the third Salvatici son. He wasn’t the heir. He wasn’t even the spare. He was the insurance policy, of use only if something happened to me or Gio. But by attacking the leader of our House, he’d proved he was unpredictable, and I didn’t doubt that some of the Knights wouldn’t even blink at having him terminated for that. Whereas my and Gio’s crimes could be overlooked and dealt with via punishment, Dante’s would not be.
I needed to get back before the Knights cast that vote. I needed to get home before Ariana did something that put her own life in danger. I didn’t know how or if I could help Dante, I only knew I had to try. Because regardless of Dante’s failures as son or a brother or even as a man, if my father had anything to do with Maricella’s disappearance, I completely understood his desire for blood. I’d go after Antonio Salvatici with my own bare hands if he so much as laid a finger on Natalie.
It would have been easier—faster—to take a chopper back to the island, but it was broad daylight, and I didn’t know what kind of woman I’d find when I arrived. I hadn’t spoken to Natalie since our night together in my room, and judging by how that had ended, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be happy to see me. I couldn’t waste time fighting with her, and I definitely couldn’t deal with her repeated attempts to escape right now. Taking the yacht back and forth from Tahiti would slow my trip to Italy by a few hours, but it was worth it to keep her on this island.
My lungs constricted as I climbed off the yacht and told Manaia I’d be ready to leave in thirty minutes. The sun was still rising over the water, and as I moved from the dock to the beach, I imagined Sela busy in the kitchen prepping breakfast. My stomach rumbled, but there was no way I could eat, not with the knot of anxiety swirling in my gut, and I had no intention of staying. My only hope was that in the few minutes I was here, I could convince Natalie that for the time being, regardless of what she thought of me, this was the safest place for her.
I pushed the back door open. Sela turned from the stove where she was stirring something in a pan and glanced toward the sound. One look at my face, though, darkened whatever surprise was in her eyes.
She flipped off the burner, reached for a towel from the counter, and crossed toward me. “What’s wrong?”
Every-fucking-thing.
I closed the door gently at my back as I glanced toward the hallway. “Where’s Natalie?”
“Outside on the deck. Luc, tell me what’s wrong.”
My gaze shifted to the windows over the kitchen sink, where I could just see the pool, deck, and Natalie’s bare feet on the end of a chaise. That ball of stress inside twisted tighter. “I have to go back to Italy.”
“What? Why?” Genuine worry tightened Sela’s voice, and I knew that had more to do with what had happened to her back in Italy than what my family could ever do to me.
“Dante’s in trouble. I don’t know all the details, just that it isn’t good. They’re holding him in the Tomb.”
Her hand shot to her mouth, and her eyes grew so wide, I could see the whites all around her dark irises. “Oh my God.”
Though she’d never experienced the cruelty of the men in my immediate family firsthand, Sela had never been particularly fond of them either. But she didn’t need to know Dante personally to know what this meant.
I squeezed her upper arm, hoping to reassure her. “I’m sure he’ll be okay. I just need to be there.”
“When will you leave?”
“Now. Manaia’s waiting with the boat. I only came back to grab clothes and tell Natalie where I’m going.” My gaze lifted back to the window, and I watched as Natalie crossed one sexy foot over the other against the red cushion. Even her toes were adorable, her nails painted a fresh coat of purple that made me want to kiss each and every one. “How has she been since I’ve been gone?”
“Fine. Friendlier, actually. But she and I had a chat the other day, which I think is why she’s softened a bit toward me.”
My gaze snapped back to Sela. “Chat about what?”
A little of the worry in Sela’s eyes dimmed. “Girl stuff. Nothing you need to know.” Her expression grew serious again. “Maybe you should take her with you.”
I huffed and headed for the hall. “Not a chance.”
Sela followed closely at my heels. “You don’t handle your family well, Luc. She could be a good distraction for you.”
Heat surged through my veins at just that word—distraction—and blood gathered in my groin as I remembered all too easily how I’d distracted Natalie in Ven
ice when she’d been frightened on that boat.
That was the exact sort of distraction I craved and the one thing I didn’t need in Italy. The last time I’d taken Natalie to Italy, she’d distracted me so well with her hands and body and sweet little mouth, I’d stupidly put her life in jeopardy.
“Not happening.” Turning into the wide living room with its peaked beamed ceiling, wide tropical furnishings, and enormous glass doors that opened right to the pool deck, I added, “She’s staying here, where she’s protected and safe. No one knows she’s here and with me in Italy, they won’t come looking for her. I’m counting on you to keep her from finding a way to escape.”
Sela drew to a stop as I reached for the sliding door handle. “And what if she doesn’t listen to me?”
“Then she’s fucked.” I glanced over my shoulder as I shoved the door open. “We could all be fucked if she alerts anyone to the location of this island.”
Sela’s face paled. I knew I was being blunt. I knew I’d just scared the shit out of her. But I needed her to help me here. I was already panicking at the thought of leaving Natalie with no guarantee she’d stay put. My only hope was that Sela could be the heavy while I was gone.
I looked across the pool toward the far side where Natalie was stretched out on the chaise and nearly swallowed my tongue. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat that shielded her face from the rising sun, and the sexiest pink bikini I’d ever seen—one that hugged her body in all the right places, accentuated the plump arch of her breasts and the erotic curves at her hips. Her wavy dark hair fell to her shoulders, and her skin was shades darker than it had been when I’d left, telling me she’d spent more time outside since I’d been gone than the entire time we’d been together on this island. And though that saddened part of me, because I’d spent hours daydreaming about relaxing by this very pool with her—even more time fantasizing about playing in the ocean and nearby waterfalls with her—it warmed something else inside me because it meant at least some part of her was acclimating to our situation.